“The driver picks the music. Everybody knows that.”
I wait until he’s very slowly and cautiously guiding the Jeep down the driveway, both hands clutching the steering wheel, and then switch the media input to my phone so an upbeat Christmas dance tune plays through the speakers.
I watch him glance at the control screen, but he’s too busy trying to drive to figure out how to turn it back to the radio.
“You win.” He stops at the bottom of the driveway, turning his blinker on when I point to the right. But before he pulls out, he gives me a look that promises he’s going to get back at me for winning the music fight. “For now.”
I’m not sure what punishment he has in mind, but I’m definitely going to enjoy imagining the possibilities.
Chapter Ten
Donovan
* * *
I don’t know what to make of Natalie Byrne. She’s a woman who saw a stranger in distress a week before Christmas and demanded one hundred thousand dollars to help—for a two and a half hour drive.
She’s also a woman whose family is incredibly generous with their hospitality. She’s smart and funny and warm, and she delivers meals to people who can’t get around in bad weather. Sure, I told her I have a lot of money. But nothing about her says she’ll take advantage of a person just because she can.
“Pull in here.” I do as I’m told, parking in front of a quaint and festively decked out general store. “I’ll be right back.”
I hum along to a Christmas song the world seems to play every fifteen minutes from early November through December every year. And while I wait, I think about what I’d usually be doing in a vehicle.
I’d be sitting in the backseat, reading email or reports. Perhaps I’d schedule a call so it wouldn’t take up my time in the office. There would be no stops—my drivers arrive with full gas tanks and don’t deviate from the most efficient way to reach my destination.
I wouldn’t be humming a holiday pop song, that’s for sure. Or tapping out the drumbeat on the steering wheel, not feeling any sense of urgency or impatience. It would be easy to say it’s because I’ve been forcibly disconnected from my business, but I don’t think that’s true. I think it’s Natalie.
I could be sitting in front of the television, watching a financial news channel. I know the inn has at least one laptop, since I saw it on an antique table I think serves as their reception desk.
I could have asked for internet access and found a way to get through to my team. Hell, my mom has a black card. The storm was over when I got out of bed and there’s no reason I’m not already on my way back to the city.
No reason except the woman walking out of the Charming Lake General Store with a cardboard coffee cup in each hand. Some part of my brain has given me permission to pretend I’m truly stranded in this town with Natalie, and I’m good with that.
I reach across the Jeep and pull the door handle, giving it a shove so she can catch the door with her knee. She hands one cup to me and slides into her seat. Then she closes her door against the cold and the rich aroma of coffee fills the Jeep.
“I know it’s been at least two whole hours since you’ve had caffeine,” she says in a teasing voice. “It’s just plain coffee, but it’s the best coffee in town.”
“Thank you.” I risk burning my mouth to take a sip and she’s right. It’s damn good coffee.
As we drive back to the inn, Natalie points out exceptionally merry decorations and tells me about the time the town tried to ban inflatables on the basis they’re too tacky for an elegant, historic town.
“They failed the first time, and they announced they were putting it back on the agenda. Inflatables went up everywhere. I don’t even know how much people spent on them, but all you could see from the town hall windows were inflatables. And there was an anonymous note letting them know that every time they tried to vote on it, ten percent more inflatables would be added.”
“I noticed Charming Lake seems to love blow-up decorations.”
“There were three in the entire town when the debate began.”
She shares more stories about the town, and I’m laughing when I pull into her parking spot at the inn. I think I’ve laughed more since meeting Natalie than I have in months, and my stomach muscles actually ache a little.
The rest of the day passes quickly as I help whoever needs help with their Christmas fair prep. I help Randy string the fishing line across the framework they’d built on the float for the inn. There will be paper snowflakes hanging from it, and I make a couple of those before we all have to admit I’m terrible at making paper snowflakes.
I play a board game with the girls while Lyla goes to help their other sister, Erin, put some finishing touches on the library float. Their brother, Rob, is too busy at the fire station to help, and I hear a lot of complaining about that from Stella.
I don’t mind any of it. Not only do I get to see enough of Natalie to make it worthwhile, but I enjoy the family dynamic. Christmas for me means a nice dinner at Mom and Judy’s home. They do Christmas Eve with Judy’s kids and grandkids and then have a quiet Christmas morning alone. When I show up, we exchange gifts and then have a meal they insist on making themselves.
The noisy chaos of the Byrne family should be overwhelming, but I enjoy being a part of it. Not as much when I choke down overcooked steak with a side of undercooked potatoes, but it’s a small price to pay for the apple crisp Natalie brings out for dessert.
After dinner, they gather in the sitting room to decorate the Christmas tree as a family. I try to excuse myself, thinking I’ll find a book somewhere and go read in my room, but Mel and Elsie are so disappointed I won’t get to see every ornament, I give in.
